


A Safe and Familar Star

by TheWolvenStorm



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Eiselcross is for Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Its in the same Vein, Kryn Dynasty (Critical Role), Literal Sleeping Together, Making Out, Mighty Nein, Sortof, Spoilers through Ep 123, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Vurmas Outpost, background Shadowgast, background beauyasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolvenStorm/pseuds/TheWolvenStorm
Summary: After a devastating fight with Lucien and the Tombtakers, the Mighty Nien stumble into Vurmas Outpost where Essek offers them a place to rest and recover. Despite the protection provided Kryn Dynasty, Fjord still feels uneasy and is determined to make sure his friends and Jester are safe.-“We can share.” She smiles up at him, a warm smile. A bright smile. A smile he wants to fall into. Her hand reaches up for him, offering to pull him down into her embrace. His heart seems to swell in his chest. They’ve travelled together for so long, often sleeping close. But this is different, an offer to sleep next to her. To curl his arms around her. Feel her heat and warmth. To kiss her goodnight. To have her be the last thing he sees before he drifts off and the first thing he sees when he wakes up.But the wind whistles past and rattles the glass pane of the window. Snapping his attention to what's important.Lucien is still coming for them. And if he was able to slip past the empire, who's to say he couldn’t slip past the Dynasty. If he was able to murder Vess by sneaking through a window, who’s to say he can’t do the same thing to Jess.
Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre
Comments: 13
Kudos: 133





	A Safe and Familar Star

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you JW for Beta-ing! If you like angst and are riding that J/D Train you should check out her stuff. She is the reigning queen of broken people falling in love and healing! (swoons)

It’s before dawn when they finally stumble into Vurmas outpost. But he can’t tell, not with the dark dumnamentic haze that keeps the harsh grey sunlight from affecting the Kryn above. Under the purple/black sky above them, the hard night continues on endlessly. 

The Nein hadn’t stopped running. Even when the polymorphs dropped. First Jester, then Beau a few minutes later. 

_ Had that fight only been a few minutes?  _

He’d let out a breath when he saw Jessie. A deep one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. But they didn’t stop running. Even when their pace slowed to a march. Even when the snow became too thick. Even when the night air became so cold that it froze the breath in their lungs. They trudged on. Freezing. Exhausted. With few spells and fewer plans. 

And silence. 

Painful. Shameful. Silence. 

Essek’s pale grey eyes go wide when he sees them, opening his arms to catch Caleb as their wizard practically collapses. He tries to babble explanations, his thick Zemnian accent smearing the already slurred words. Apologizing for not coming sooner. Warning about the Tomb Takers. About the Nightmare in Ivory. About the City and the Somnovum. And about the red eye branded into his skin. 

“You are safe here,” Essek urges, wrapping his elbow around Caleb’s and dragging him towards the largest of the handful of buildings in the outpost. “We will take care of you.” 

Fjord slips his hand to the small of Jessie’s back as they follow Essek inside. She’s tired. They’re all so tired. Haggard and fragile after their ordeal. Days of high tension and near misses culminating in their barely making it out alive. 

And they still haven’t made it out. Even as Essek assures them of their safety, he can’t help but feel like they're still being watched. Still being hunted. 

The Star Razor reveals the unseen to him and he searches the space. High walls. Sturdier than those at the Imperial outpost. Kryn guards patrol along the top. Armed and armored. Protecting the Dynasty’s precious research against prying eyes. A dozen or so buildings and smattering of hide yurts. A solid steel lift is on the far side of the outpost, no-doubt leading down into the Aeorian ruins. 

But there’s no scrying orb. No invisible eye watching. His eyes flick to Beau as she peels off her gloves. 

Perhaps Lucien doesn’t need a spell to see them anymore. 

In the outpost’s headquarters, There’s food, a fire, rough tables with a few long benches. It’s simple and rustic and perfect. Everything they need right now. 

“Warm up. Take a few minutes,” Essek instructs them, snapping his fingers toward the kitchen gesturing at the Nien as they slump into their seats. “I’ll find you a place to rest, and when you are well, you can tell me everything.” 

“There’s no time,” Caleb murmurs. “They are already there.” 

“We can’t do anything about that now,” Cad answers, pulling out his tea set from his pack and smiling limply but graciously at the Kryn cook bringing them bowls of something warm and porridge-y with jugs of ale and water. “We need rest and we need a plan. We can’t go off half-cocked again.” 

“They will bring back the City” 

“Not without their half of the ritual they won’t,” Beau counters. “They’ll follow us to get what we have or… they’ll go get more somewhere else. We have their stuff, but they don’t have the capacity to take on everyone here.” 

“He snuck into the Empire’s outpost and killed Lady DeRogna just fine,” Fjord snaps. He sounds angrier than he wants to, and Jester’s hand finds his beneath the table. Interlocking their fingers and offering a small squeeze that speaks volumes.

They are hungry, exhausted, stressed. Everyone is at the limit of what they can handle. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. Mustering up whatever patience and peace he can find. Borrowing most of it from Jess, her hand tight in his. Her thumb gently tracing over his knuckles. 

“Vess DeRogna is dead?” Essek asks, as Cad passes his full teapot to Caleb.

Their wizard sighs and cups the teapot for a long minute, until steam begins to rise in feathery wisps from the spout. And then he tells Essek everything. 

* * *

“It’s not much,” Essek warns them, his hand sliding out from beneath the heavy fur line mantle to unlock a door, “but its warm, private, and you won’t be disturbed.” 

“ _ Mein Fruend, _ this is too much,” Caleb protests as Essek shows them into his private quarters so they can rest. 

“This is the most secure place in the outpost,” the drow explains, opening the door for them. “It is in the most central location, which means these ah… Tomb Takers, would have to make it through everyone here without being discovered in order to reach you.” 

Fjord glances around the room. A bed, larger than a cot but, not by much. A cushioned chair next to a fireplace. A moorbounder skin rug on the floor. A desk with open books and papers that Essek quickly gathers into a neat stack as Yasha drops the heavy pack with the Tomb Takers threshold crest and other ritual pieces in a corner. 

And a window. 

“I need to discuss with my researchers here what you have told me about this Somnovum. I will be—” Essek pauses, searching for a word. “Delicate and discrete with what you have told me about your,” his eyes fall to Caleb’s shoulder, silently acknowledging the Red Eye beneath his coat, “condition.” 

“Thank you, Essek.” Jess is around him in a flash. Hugging him tightly. She’d been quiet for most of the discussion. Only chiming in to explain how Lucien had seen her through her scry, how he seemed able to cast sending through Cree, and what she’d done to try and remove Caleb’s brand. But other than that she’d been quiet, focused on the knot of their fingers under the table. 

“Anything for you,” Essek assures, awkwardly returning the hug. “I will -ah- see if our cook can muster anything sweet for you.” 

Jester giggles despite her exhaustion. “I will never say no to treats. But, honestly, I’m just so glad we finally made it to you.” 

A dark blush blooms on Essek’s cheek and he smiles fondly at Jessie. “I’m relieved that you made it here too.” He coughs, clearing the emotion from his throat. “Please rest well.” 

“I’m calling bed,” Beau announces as soon as the door closes. “That fucker almost killed me and Cad. And Cad’s too big for it.” She strips off her coat and starts unravelling her hand wraps. 

“Fair enough,” Cad says, finding space on the floor that accommodates his height. 

“Chair!” Veth shouts. “You’re  _ all _ too big for it.” 

The rest of the Nien finds their spots one by one. Yasha spreads out her bedroll alongside the bed next to Beau. Caleb curls up with his cat next to the chair by Veth. Jess rolls out her bedroll atop the Moorbounder hide and looks up at Fjord. 

“Your stuff was in the bag wasn’t it?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“We can share.” She smiles up at him, a warm smile. A bright smile. A smile he wants to fall into. Her hand reaches up for him, offering to pull him down into her embrace. His heart seems to swell in his chest. They’ve travelled together for so long, often sleeping close. But this is different, an offer to sleep next to her. To curl his arms around her. Feel her heat and warmth. To kiss her goodnight. To have her be the last thing he sees before he drifts off and the first thing he sees when he wakes up. 

But the wind whistles past and rattles the glass pane of the window. Snapping his attention to what's important. 

Lucien is still coming for them. And if he was able to slip past the empire, who's to say he couldn’t slip past the Dynasty. If he was able to murder Vess by sneaking through a window, who’s to say he can’t do the same thing to Jess.

“Keep it warm for me.” He smiles back at Jester, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m just going to check the perimeter.” 

She tilts her head in confusion, violet eyes glittering with some unspoken thing. “Is that what you need?” 

“It is. I’ll be back soon,” he promises. “Make sure Caleb casts his alarm spell.”

* * *

Compared to the small room heated by a fireplace and seven warm bodies, it’s fucking freezing. The wind bites through his coat as he trudges through the snow. 

Elves are delicate, and seem to step lightly atop it. Moving easily between their posts when he has to carve his way through the slurry. 

Good, any disturbances in the snow would be a warning sign for the guards that something is wrong. Except, Tyffial would be able to bound right across. It’d be as simple as killing a guard and taking their armor and walking straight into the outposts headquarters. 

A quick survey around the building reveals two overhangs. One over each entrance. Not much, just enough to keep the snow off those exiting the building long enough to replace scarves and coats and gloves. But enough for any one of the Tomb Takers to climb up and reach the small window on the second story. 

_ Is that their window? _ Fjord blinks back some exhaustion as he retraces the layout of the building in his mind. No. It’s not their window. But if their hunters can get up and in, it's only a short hallway and a few doors to the room where the Nien are clustered. 

He finds their window about fifteen feet up along the side of the building. It faces the center of the outpost, and he imagines Essek peeking out to survey his domain. Central location means many eyes on the building at all times. 

It should be a relief. But it's not, because Zoran is maybe  _ eight? nine? _ feet tall. Tall enough to boost any of the Tomb Takers up. And Lucien has Molly’s grace and finesse. And he has proved that scaling a building is nothing to him. 

_ But the wall? _ Not the fragile wooden facades of the Empires outposts, but a real wall. Crafted with Dunamancy and ice.  _ Could the tomb takers scale that?  _

The gate is flanked by two watchtowers. Wooden, but sturdy in the frost. The lookouts have good visibility on the endless expanse of tundra ahead of them. Good, but not great. He borrows a guards spy glass and finds two points on the horizon. A snow dune that he hardly remembers climbing, no doubt hiding a number of Aeorian ruins beneath it. And a smattering of raised stone and steel structures peeking above the ice. It’s not a lot of cover, but for experienced hunters, it might be enough. 

The ice itself seems solid, and in a flash of instinct he summons the Star Razor and slices at the dense pack. A few Kryn look at him curiously, but quickly turn back to their duties once he smiles and opens his coat to reveal the symbol of the Bright Queen. He’d cut through the ice easily enough, but who knows if that’s the magic of the sword, or if the ice would give way to grappling hooks just as easy. 

He walks the perimeter of the outpost. Checking for gaps in the wall, weaknesses, anything the Tomb Takers could use to their advantage. There’s not much, the Kryn are efficient, effective and even in this frozen hell, the dignity of the Dynasty is upheld. 

It should be comforting. 

He should feel safe. 

The deep well down into the city center of Aeor opens at his feet. A perfect circle of clean cut stone. Framed by a mechanical lift that lowers researchers and excavators down into the ruins. A counterweight triggers and Fjord jumps at the sound. Wires reeling as a basket slowly emerges. 

Lucien said they had been to Aeor before. That they have their own entrances into the city.  _ Could they have made it in? Somehow made it through the tunnels to reach them? _ The cold of the Star Razor burns in his bones as he watches the lift rise. 

A bookish Drow woman nods to the man guarding the lift as she adjusts her spectacles before hastening toward the central building. She tosses a curious glance his way, but she doesn’t inquire into him. Only withdraws a small artifact and sketchbook as she quickens her pace. Practically floating like Essek. 

No-one has asked about him. Asked what he’s doing or why he’s here.  _ Are they used to strangers coming and going, freely walking around their highly sensitive research outpost? _ There’s no way Essek could have told everyone here about them already. 

A group of guards is gathered around a small fire, roasting a few snared snow hares over raucous laughter. It would be easy for Otis to sneak by them, distracted as they are. The halfling had used him for cover for gods sake. It would be too easy. 

“Excuse me,” he calls out to them. “I’m hoping to speak to someone who’s in charge of security. I’m a friend of the Shadowhand.” 

The Kryn straighten up and their laughter dies instantly. 

“No-one is friends with the Shadowhand,” a singular male voice rises above the others. Standing, removing his helmet. Long white hair framed with pristine battle braids hangs loose. Broad chest, square jaw. Faint scarring crosses down one eye over his cheek. A clean cut from a swordsman’s blade. 

“His guests then,” Fjord corrects. 

“And you are looking for who’s in charge of the guards.” 

“Yes, I’m Captain Stone of the Mighty Nein.” He’s never used that particular title before. But Captain Tusktooth doesn’t seem the most appropriate. And the Kryn respect titles. He flashes the badge of the Bright Queen they received back in Rohsonna. 

The Drow looks at it. Pale grey eyes that seem eerily familiar studying it for a long moment. 

“Well, Captain Stone,” he says, straightening and pressing a fist to his sternum in formal greetings, “I am Taskhand Verin Thelyss and you’ve found who you’re looking for.” 

His mind scrambles to quickly remember any details Essek revealed about his brother and draws a near total blank.  _ Older brother? Younger brother? _ He can’t remember much about that night in the Hot Tub at the moment. The weariness fogging his memory. Except for the crystalline clear image of Jessie across from him, the low light glinting off the diamond dust tattoos across her shoulders. A constellation of blue freckles following the column of her throat to her sternum. The steam rising and making her seem ethereal and otherworldly. 

“Right,” he manages, shaking away the memory. “I have some information about some potential threats to the outpost if you are willing to listen. I’m sure Essek has briefed you or will brief you.” 

Verin’s white eyebrow quirks up at the use of Essek’s name instead of title but gestures Fjord away from the fire and the prying ears of the other guardsmen. 

“You are the lot that planted that giant tree at our cousin’s home in Rohsonna, are you not?” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was anyone’s actual home.” 

“Do not worry,” Verin laughs. “She died several years ago and we have yet to locate the body she’s been consecuted to. You will be fine until she comes of age and inherits her former estate.” 

“Oh,” he pauses. “When you do find her, please offer our thanks. And if the tree bothers her… we’ll get rid of it.” 

Verin laughs and slaps Fjord playfully on the shoulder. And if it was any other moment, he would have taken the time to add up the difference between the Thelyss brothers. How easy it was to make Verin laugh. How their physicalities differ. But not now, not when the imminent threat of Lucien climbing through the window and murdering Jessie in her sleep looms overhead. 

“We have a pack of Blood Hunters on our trail, a mercenary group called the Tomb Takers. Have you heard of them?” 

Verin shakes his head. “I’ve faced foes who’ve wielded Hemocraft before, in the Labyrinth under 

Bazzoxan. But I’m unfamiliar with this particular group. Why are they hunting you?” 

“Long story short, we took relics from them in order to prevent them from unleashing an Astral Horror.” 

Verin opens his mouth and then closes it. “I assume my brother has the pertinent details regarding that aspect...” 

“He does.” 

“Well then.” The Taskhand’s posture instantly shifts, becoming focused and sure. “Numbers? Tactics? Capabilities?” 

He shares what he can. What he can remember through the fog of the battle last night and with the Dragon earlier. 

“Impressive,” Verin smirks in a way that’s very much like Essek. “Our scouts reported the Nightmare in Ivory had left her nest, but she seemed… singularly focused. I hope you thrashed her well enough to keep her away from us.” 

“She left in a hurry.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Verin makes a gesture to summon a few guards to him. “I’ll put my people on high alert, let them know what to look for.” 

He’s dead on his feet as he trudges back to the building at the center of the outpost. But even with everything he’s done, his eyes keep going back to the window to the room. 

Lucien won’t get to her. Not while he still has any strength left to fight. 

So he summons the Star Razor. The sword solid in his grasp, and takes position under the window. 

And watches.

* * *

“Fjord…”

The hand on his cheek is warm, and when his eyes flutter open, there she is. Her boots unlaced and hastily thrown on over her leggings. The beautifully embroidered coat unbuttoned and loosely wrapped around her. The lines of her face hollow with worry. 

“Come on,” she urges quietly. “You’ll freeze out here.” 

Jess pulls him to his feet. At some point he had slumped down against the wall, though he doesn’t remember exactly when. It’s light out, or at least lighter considering the dark sky the Kryn place overhead. The deep purple hues faded to something violet. 

She swipes the snow off his coat, before slinging her arm around his waist. Helping support his unsteady steps back into the building. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t admonish him for being so stupid as to pass out unprotected outside. Just helps him up the stairs and into the small chamber where their friends are sleeping safely. 

Caleb startles awake, no doubt due to the alarm spell. 

“Can you re-cast it?” Jess whispers, crouching close to their wizard. 

“ _ Ja, Blaubeere, _ ” he murmurs in response. 

“Thank you.” 

Despite her size, Beau has somehow managed to take up the whole bed. Her arm hanging off the edge of the mattress down near Yasha. Veth has her knees slung over the edge of the armchair, her crossbow locked and loaded in her lap. Cadueces sleeps like a corpse on the floor, stiff and straight with his arms folded over his chest. 

In his absence, Jess had pulled the Moarbounder rug into the corner and spread out her bedroll and blanket on top. Her skirts neatly folded into flat makeshift pillows. Her pack sits at the foot of the little nest. Her sketchbook rests on top, open to a half finished sketch of Beau riding Gelidon. 

_ She had been waiting for him.  _

The thought tugs at his heart as she strips off her coat and lays it flat atop the blankets. Adding another layer to the nest. Caleb finishes his spell and retreats back to the corner next to Veth and the fireplace. Frumpkin cozying up in his lap. The cat’s heavy purr filling the air with a calming rhythm. 

“Here.” Jessie’s hands slip under his coat and shrugs him out of it. His limbs are stiff and stupid and he’s not as helpful as he should be. She spreads the coat on top of hers before bending to carefully help unlace his boots. Part of him wants to protest, tell her that he’ll take care of it. But she’s already tugging the first one off before the words find their way to his tongue. 

After his boots is his armor. Her clever artistic fingers undoing the ties to his pauldron and breast plate. The leather slipping off him and into her hands. She does it all quietly, careful not to wake the others. Though any noise she makes is easily masked by Cad’s heavy snore. 

His hands have warmed enough that he handles his own belt, and Jessie wiggles her eyebrows a bit at the display as he strips off his vest. She folds it gingerly and adds it to the small stack of clothing they have for pillows. 

As quiet and comfortable as it was, the air is suddenly tense and thick as Jess opens up the cocooned layers and slips into the space she made for them. She looks up at him, violet eyes cautious and a little unsure. Biting her lip before patting the space next to her. 

An offering. An invitation. 

The thing between them is still new, even though it sometimes feels like it's always been there. And there are still so many things they have yet to share. A space to sleep,  _ just sleep,  _ is one of them. 

He swallows and settles in next to her, exhaling heavily as his arm comes to rest at her waist and she schooches closer in, dragging the layers back over them. The movement shifts his shirt and he blushes as her eyes drift to his chest. Stretching out her fingers to delicately trace the brand Lucien burned into his chest. 

“Did he do this to you?” she asks gently, and he nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” She whispers something, her eyes and hand glowing a soft pink. 

And with a painful gasp it's gone. The paranoia, the fear. The constant nagging feeling of being hunted. Its gone. He lets out a slow heavy breath as peace settles over him. Heavy and thick like the dense fog of his own connection to divinity. Her hand lingering over his heart, as if it wasn’t already hers. 

“Better?” 

“I thought he’d just hit me, I didn’t realize he’d-” the thought trails off into nothingness as Jess wraps her arm around him and holds him tight. Warmth, her warmth, seeping into his skin, sinking into bones. “Thank you, Jessie.” 

“I promised I’d heal you.” she whispers, so quietly it's practically inaudible. 

How far they’ve come from that night. On the deck of their ship, surrounded by the blue green blooms of bioluminescent jellies. Her eyes wide and curious, taking in the rare and beautiful sight. 

He takes in his own rare and beautiful sight. The exuberance she hides behind is stripped away to something subdued. Something vulnerable and curious. Fjord traces her horn, the point of her ear, her cheek. Wanting to memorize how she is just now. Wishing he had Caleb’s skill to remember every moment in precise detail. 

“Your hands are freezing.” her smile melting away any barrier that's left between him and her. 

“And here I thought you were resistant to the cold?” 

She bites her lip and pokes her head up to look around the room. Her cheeks flushing purple as she returns to his embrace. “Can I kiss you?” 

He nods and his heart feels ready to burst from his chest. Her arm wraps around him and she leans in and he meets her in the middle. Their first kiss had been small and chaste. Her first real kiss, not that awful moment when she nearly drowned and he’d given her enough air to save them all. The second he’d surprised her. Catching her off guard in front of their friends. It isn’t something he can bring himself to regret. 

This time is different. She takes the lead. Still hesitant, but from inexperience, not insecurity. Pressing small glancing kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. The spots where his tusks protrude up from his bottom lip. Experimenting, exploring. Their kisses opening, widening, deepening, her mouth slanting against his as she tests all the ways their mouths can fit together.

Jester’s hands slide up his arms, finding their place at the back of his neck. He curls his arm around her back and brings her closer still. Pulling her flush against him. Her tail wraps around his forearm and her head tips back contentedly, exposing the column of her throat. 

He plants his lips there, counting the deep blue freckles as quietly as he can before climbing back to recapture her lips. Hearts speaking in the language of tongue and taste. Yearning and desperation. Joy and relief. And love. 

_ She loves me.  _

Not the childish affection of when they first met. Something strong and deep and resilient. Something they needed to grow into. Something that they’ll continue to grow from. 

Together. 

Jester lets out a small noise as he kisses the line of her jaw and immediately clamps her hand over her mouth and giggles silently. 

His head falls back onto the folded clothes they’re using as pillows. His disappointment overshadowed by his heart pounding in his ear. By the taste of her lingering on his tongue. “I can’t wait till we’re back home.”

“Or the tower,” she completes the thought, rolling into the crook of his arm. Her head resting on his shoulder. “Or at least somewhere where we aren’t surrounded by our friends.” 

He lets out a small too loud chuckle and tries to cover it up with a cough. But he can feel Jester smiling against him. Her arm wraps tightly around his waist, and squeezes. 

“Goodnight, Fjord.” 

His arm comes around her shoulders and he returns the small squeeze. 

“Goodnight, Jessie” 

And with her body safe in his arms, her heat banishing the cold, and her love settling over him like a thick shroud, he finally manages to sleep. 

* * *

Melora grants him a peaceful night. His dreams are only sensation. Laying back on the deck of their ship, staring up at the night sky, at the safe and familiar stars. Feeling the ship rock with the waves, listening to them crash onto shore. Watching the purple night fade to pink and then brighten with the sun. A gentle humming joining the chorus of wind and waves. 

It's a song he’s heard before. On a night when Jester was wearing a pink ball gown, and the ocean crashed in the distance. A night in Nicodranas when the words he longed to say sat on the tip of his tongue. 

In that foggy place between sleep and awake, he feels her fingers in his hair. Carding through it, her nails running soothingly along his scalp. The small knot he ties up his hair in must’ve been pulled free in the night. But he can’t be bothered to care, because it feels amazing. Each gentle scratch melts him further into her embrace. 

“I never want to move.” 

“You don’t have to.” He can hear her smile, even without looking up. 

They’d switched places at some point during the night. Instead of resting her head on his chest, he’s now rested on hers. 

It takes a minute for him to notice the silence. No purring Frumpkin, no snoring Cad, no murmuring Beau. 

“Where is everyone?” he asks, managing to lift his head up for a moment to look around before sinking back down into the cradle of her arms. 

“Downstairs. Eating supper. Don’t worry. Caleb recast the alarm before he left.” 

There’s a million questions floating through his mind.  _ Was there any word from the Tomb Takers? Did Beau and Caleb get new eyes? Did Essek find out anything?  _ But all those questions fade with her gentle touch caressing the side of his face. 

“Are you awake enough to talk?” she asks, quickly adding. “You don’t need to move.” Her tail moves a bit under the blankets and he catches it, earning a giggle as it winds around his arm. His fingers follow the edge of the spade, admiring how the soft flat leads down to strong muscle. 

“Yea Jess, I’m awake.” 

He feels her light dim briefly as she licks her lips. Choosing her words. “You really scared me last night.” 

Fjord winces but nods. “I know.” 

“You told us to leave you behind.” 

Jester lets it hang in the air for too long and when he looks up her eyes are brimming. And suddenly staying warm in their little cocoon isn’t important anymore. Only crushing her against him, doing anything he can to keep those tears from falling. 

“You don’t get to tell us to do that.” her voice cracks, but she fights through it. Finding the well of resolve at the core of her being. “We don’t cut our losses. We don’t leave anyone behind. Molly didn’t leave us behind when we were captured. We stay and we fight. Together. All of us. Whatever happens.”

Fjord rests his forehead against hers. Biting his lips, stifling his protests.  _ I promised your mother, I’d keep you safe.  _ He’s an orphan and his only real connections left in this world are the Nein. It’s an easy calculation. He could have died there. He was prepared to die there. If it meant the rest of the Nein got out. If it meant she got out. 

“I’m not gonna let you throw yourself at Lucien like that,” she spins his own words from a few nights before back to him. “You’re the Wildmother’s Champion. You’re my…” she sputters a bit, but inhales. And says something he’s never heard. “You’re mine. And you don’t get to decide you’re not worth saving.” 

_ She loves me.  _

The realization washes over him again. Soaking deeper into his soul each time he recognizes the truth. 

“I don’t have an argument,” 

There’s a heartbeat where she blinks before realizing what he said. And then she laughs and kisses him. Freely, easily, comfortably. Growing deeper with each brush of her lips. 

It’s never felt like this. Never could taste love on someone’s tongue the way he can with hers. Never felt his heart ache this sweetly. Never felt need burn in his palms. 

Their kisses become open mouthed and eager. He accepts her enthusiasm and doubles back with his own. Chasing her lips as love flows between them. The room growing warmer despite it only being the two of them. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he husks, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, “but we are alone right now.” 

“I did.” Her voice is breathy and beautiful in a way that he hasn’t heard yet. It doesn’t escape him how she arches to his touch, craning neck away to give him more room.

“You’re in charge here, Jess. Nothing happens without your say.” 

Jester nods, her violet eyes closed. A small squeal escaping as he kisses down her ear to her jaw. 

And then she’s straddling him, knees bracketing his legs. Hands guiding his to her waist. “I want to keep kissing you.” 

And once again he finds himself without an argument. And even if he had one, his mouth is too occupied to give it voice. 

She likes his tusks, he finds to his delight. And he likes the noises she makes when he scrapes them along her neck. He likes her tail, and how it possessively coils around his arm. His hands smooth down from her waist, over the curve of her hip to the thickness of her thighs. Feeling the soft strength over her leggings. And hers tangle in his hair, dragging his head back so she can devour him whole. 

She can have him. 

Her mouth finds his neck and he clutches her to him. Whispering nonsense encouragement as she figures out what to do. Fangs scrape against his skin as she sucks a love bite onto him. And he can’t help the too loud groan that escapes him. 

She shocks still, and he instantly looks to the window. Seeing nothing, he turns back to her. Maybe he scared her. Maybe she got caught up and didn’t mean to go this far. 

“Jess—” 

She holds a finger to his lips as her face twists into an adorable sneer. “Mind your own business, Veth!” she answers the message aloud. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.” 

In spite of his disappointment he can’t help but laugh at the pout on her face. 

“We knew she was gonna be like this,” he chuckles.

“It’s still super rude.” Jesters grumbles as she untangles herself from him. Extending her hand help him stand. “Screaming in someone’s head when you know they are making out.” 

Fjord raises his eyebrow at her. 

“I don’t send messages when I  _ KNOW!”  _

“Alright” he smiles, raising his hands in surrender. 

“I’m getting better at it!” 

They dress quietly, trading sly smiles. Her pausing to mend his armor, and he redoing the ribbon that keeps the coat tight around her tail. 

“Ready?” he asks as she straightens his hat. “Veth will be relentless.” 

“We’ll get our revenge,” she smiles wickedly 

“No dicks this time. I think that’ll make it worse.” 

“No dicks,” she promises and pops up on her tiptoes for a final kiss before facing their friends. But with her at his side, he can face anything. 

* * *

**Epilogue:**

“Is that a hickey!?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Manifest with me my brothers and sisters (lets be real mostly sisters) and pray thusly: 
> 
> Oh Matthew, who art behind the DM screen  
> We call upon you in our hour of need  
> May Essek come and offer safe harbor  
> On Earth as well as Exandria  
> Give us this day Verin Thelyss  
> As we need a daddy drow to come wreck us  
> And lead them not to the tombtakers  
> and deliver them from Lucien  
> As he sucks more than Raishan  
> the Briarwoods and Vecna combined
> 
> Amen. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are photosynthetic creative juice.  
> So yummy yummy yummy.  
> Put comments in my Belly. 
> 
> Your codeword is Diet Dr. Pepper  
> Have fun sleeper agent.


End file.
